Chapter 31 - Zoe
My mother dies in that hospital bed. She’s too old and too frail to sustain that kind of shock to her system. The doctors aren’t able to get her body temperature back to where it should be, and she never wakes up.
I’m numb.
She passes as I hold her hand and Audrey sleeps in the bed next to her. The pain in my heart is indescribable. The mix of guilt and shame and misery swirling around inside me feels like a thousand cuts to the flesh, slowly bleeding as I watch my mother breathe her last breath.
She saved my daughter and it cost her her life. Ethan and Sherry are beside me, but I don’t see them. I just see my mother and her eerily pale skin, the peaceful look on her face and the eyes that will never again sparkle as she laughs.
I think Ethan puts his hand on my shoulder at one point, but I’m not sure. I just sit there and look at my mother’s body until the pain inside me is almost too much to bear.
Sherry says something about not worrying about coming to work, and Ethan says something else, but I don’t hear any of it. One of them puts a jacket over my shoulders and some food appears beside me, but nothing makes me move from my seat next to my mother’s bed.
It’s not until I hear Audrey’s voice behind me that I’m pulled out of my stupor. What she says breaks my heart all over again.
“I’m sorry, Mommy,” she says in a whisper. “My boat was getting stuck in the rocks and I just wanted it to float down the river.”
I turn to my daughter and shake my head, wrapping her in my arms. “Shh, Audrey. It’s not your fault. I’m just glad you’re okay.”
“What happened? Where’s Grandma?”
My heart breaks all over again and I take a deep breath. This is one of the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do, but I look in my daughter’s eyes and brush a strand of hair off her face.
“Your grandmother was very brave. She ran into the water to get you out. She saved you from the river, and she’s the most amazing woman I’ve ever known.”
Audrey glances over at the other bed. “Is she asleep?”
It’s hard to speak with the lump that’s formed in my throat, and I can see the wheels turning in Audrey’s head. She looks at me and then at her grandmother again, and her face scrunches in fear. Her eyes widen and my heart feels like it’s shattering all over again.
“Will she wake up?” Her voice is a squeak, and mine is completely gone. All I can do is shake my head from side to side and hold my sobbing daughter to my chest. We cry together, and Audrey just keeps repeating I’m sorry, Mommy. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.
I pull away from her and take her face in my hands. “This is not your fault, Audrey. Do you hear me? It was an accident. Your grandmother died to save your life, and I will forever be grateful.” My voice catches on the last word, and I take a deep breath. “It is not your fault.”
“Of course it’s my fault,” Audrey says, and I see fear and sorrow in her eyes. “I’m sorry, Mom. You told me not to get too close to the water. I’m so sorry. Grandma…”
“Shh, Audrey,” I say, holding her close to me. I try to comfort her but my voice is gone again, and all I can do is rock her gently back and forth.
The next few days are a blur. Ethan takes me home with him, and somehow all my things appear in his house. Food appears in our fridge, and I vaguely realize that almost everyone in town brings us things we might need. We have frozen casseroles and dinners, flowers, drinks, teddy bears. Even Ethan’s house gets a spruce up from the endless stream of people coming to help us and give their condolences. Squeaky hinges are fixed, he gets a new dining table and a bed for Audrey’s room. The generosity is endless.
I try to be grateful, but it’s exhausting. Somewhere, in the deep recesses of my heart, I realize that this community has accepted me as one of their own, but right now I’m just trying to keep breathing. Seconds tick by and the pain doesn’t go away.
Audrey recovers from her physical injuries as only children can, but there’s a darkness in her eyes that wasn’t there before. Her voice is dampened, and I don’t see her jump and dance and laugh like she used to. Ethan sees me watching her and puts his hands on my shoulder.
“She’ll recover,” he says softly into my ear, and I try to blink back the tears in my eyes. I nod vigorously, and try to force a smile.
“I know,” I answer. I’m just not sure if I will.
Two weeks after the accident, Audrey is recovered enough to go back to school, and I try to contain the heart-wrenching fear in my heart when I watch her leave. It’s hard to have her out of my sight, but Ethan squeezes my shoulder and kisses my temple and I let her go.
“Come on,” he says after she’s gotten on the bus. “Let’s get some brunch at the hotel. My treat.”
I watch the bus disappear around the bend and ignore the urge to run after it and drag my daughter back to my side. I look at the man who’s held me up these past few weeks and nod.
“That sounds nice,” I respond, and he squeezes my shoulder again.
“I love you, Zoe,” he says matter-of-factly.
“I love you too.”
And that’s that. We head towards the hotel for some breakfast.